


fetish, f*cks, & fate

by NegansOtherWife



Series: Tumblr Requests [16]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Smut, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 15:31:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18144041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NegansOtherWife/pseuds/NegansOtherWife
Summary: Negan finds his soulmate.





	fetish, f*cks, & fate

**Author's Note:**

> bonus upload on a sunday! what!?!?! my dear friend @annablack1102 on tumblr reached 500 followers and made a writing challenge to celebrate. (congrats, once again!)
> 
> my assigned trope was SOULMATES, and i had so much fun writing this. i was laughing my ass off. enjoy! x

“Has anyone ever told you that you have the perfect 80’s pornstache? Have you ever done porn? I mean I was never really into porn—I’m more of an erotica girl, but you look familiar. Let’s see; my husband had a very diverse collection, um, Carpet Muncher? No? Ben Dover? Throbbin Hood? Let me know when I’m getting close…”

He blinked.

“Anyone ever tell you that you talk too goddamn much?”

“Touché,” You taunted. “Simon, was it? Why don’t you get this fat fuck to remove the gun from my temple and maybe, just fucking _maybe_ , I’ll answer all your goddamn questions. Until then I’m going to keep rambling until I annoy you to death.”

Simon waved his fingers, a nonchalant gesture that kind of pissed you off. You wanted to break his fingers. One by one. Thankfully, the muzzle of the gun that had been pressed to your temple is quickly removed, taking up residency on your upper back.

“Great, thanks.” Crossing your arms, you cocked your head. “Now what was your question?”

“Are there others?”

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’. “It’s just little ol’ me out in the woods fending for my life, but don’t let the pretty face fool you. I’ve taken down plenty of motherfuckers bigger than you. And for the record I don’t appreciate being ambushed and taken to wherever the fuck I am only to be sat down in front of this stupid desk,” You kicked it for emphasis, “what the fuck is this—a job interview or a scene from Godfather?”

To your surprise, Simon smirked.

“You took down five of my men.” He commented, obviously impressed. “You’ve got my attention.”

“And _you’ve_ had to at _least_ done an amateur video on Pornhub.” You fluttered your lashes. “Am I right or am I motherfucking right?”

“Big T, give us a moment.” The hulk of a man that had been holding a gun to your back, exited the room with a grunt. Simon studied you, stroking his impressive ‘stache. “Here’s what I’m willing to offer. Food, shelter, and a room. In exchange, you work for Negan. Anything you find while on designated runs, anything you so much as see—belongs to him.”

You tapped your chin.

“And the other option is..?”

There’s always another option.

“Death.”

“Fuck it,” You shrugged. “I’ve got nothing better to do.”

Amused by your nonchalance, Simon sharply whistled and as if by magic, summoned one of his minions to the door.

“Ah, shit!” You cheered, taking your stuff from some nameless woman and plucking the item you desired from the bag. “I thought I lost you, baby.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“Simon—meet Luke!” Swinging the bat over your head in a perfect arch, you sent it crashing down onto the desk, denting the metal in the process. Fuck him, and the desk. It’d been a minute since you’d destroyed something. “We’re a packaged deal.”

“What the fuck,” He breathed. “Are those spikes?”

“Yep.” You proudly rotated the bat in your hand, allowing the metal spikes to glint under the fluorescences. “Luke, my husband, he used to play professionally.” You readily admitted. “Sad story, but typical. Came home and had to bash his head in with this bad boy, wasn’t that hard, coincidentally I’d found out he’d been cheating on me the day before.”

Simon looked mystified. “He’d been bitten?”

“Sure,” Your eyes quickly averted his gaze, pursing your lips. “Let’s go with that.”

The rest, as they say, is history. Simon anointed you a Savior, because apparently, he was someone important enough to do that type of shit, and promptly left your ass with strangers. Months passed and eventually, you’d begun to consider the men and woman also stationed at the Satellite Outpost as family. You’d heard from the others that the outpost was only a network of a much larger community, but for now, you were content with your little slice of sanctuary.

Today, you’d been assigned guard duty, which would have been all fine and fucking dandy if it weren’t the most boring assignment on the face of planet Earth. To pass the time, you knitted, whistling mindless tunes. Knit one, pearl two, and all that bullshit. Kirpa’s baby shower was next week and you wanted something to gift her.

The sound of multiple engines drew your attention away from your project. The Satellite Outpost was in the middle of nowhere surrounded by a ten-foot wooden fence. For that reason in particular, your ass barely budged from your chair. Simon’s big head was easily discernible as the first car rolled up to the gate.

He stuck his head out the window.

“Simon? How the fuck are yah? You little bastard, back so soon?” You waved down cheekily from your outpost.

He cupped his face, shielding his eyes from the sun. “Are you fucking knitting?”

“Yeah. You like?” You held up what was meant to eventually be a pair of baby booties. “It’s a purse for your balls.”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N.” He shook his head. “Just open the goddamn gate. We’ve got supplies to unload.”

Not one to push boundaries for anything less than pleasure, you climbed down, and slid the gate open, allowing the line of cars to pass. The front half of a semi-truck drove through the gates, a man dangling precariously from the side railing. He jumped, his boots scuffing the dirt as he landed mere inches from where you stood. The whole thing seemingly happening in slow motion.

To put it plainly, your love life had been a discarded trail of one night stands until you’d met Luke. You weren’t really a romantic, but what you’d had with him was comfortable—at least until you’d splattered his brains all over the kitchen in front of your house cat, Bartholomeow. You’d never been in love, never had that heart-skipping moment that put butterflies in your tummy—til’ now.

You gaped, holding up Luke. “Et tu, Brute?”

The mysterious man balked, his handsome features rippling to form a heartbreaking smirk. He held up his own wire covered baseball bat. “This just tickles my motherfucking balls. What are the goddamn odds?” His grin widened as he drawled on. “And here I was about to blow your damn brains out for giving Simon lip. Shame on me.”

“Luke.” You motioned.

“Lucille.” His eyes which were a mossy green edged with a mahogany brown, trailed the length of your body. You did the same, covertly taking in his lanky, yet trim figure. You lingered on his long fingers. Those could definitely do some damage. No doubt, he was a kinky motherfucker. “Are we falling in love, Kitten?”

“I’ll have to see your dick first.” You bit your lip, adjusting your tits in your tube top before taking his outstretched hand. It’s the middle of summer so not a completely impractical choice. He practically eyeballs the outline of a pebbled nipple, so much so, you think it might just up and fall off. Good boy. “Y/N,” You announced, “but I like Kitten.”

“Negan,” He brought his lips to your back of your hand, his tongue sneaking out to taste the skin between your knuckles, “but you can call me Daddy when you’re riding my dick later.”

A kinky fucker, indeed—and a powerful one at that. If you had a voice of reason you were sure it’d be telling you to not attempt to fuck the man who could order your death with a snap of his fingers.

“Alright, enough with this shit. Y/N, you’re on guard duty.” Simon barked, shattering the connection, so to speak, and breaking the fucking moment. “Get your ass back up on that post, and make yourself useful.”

“Jesus, Simon! Don’t get your nut sack in a twist.” You both spoke at the same time as if you’d somehow rehearsed the entire thing. Simon did a double take. It’s fucking hilarious and so goddamn strange you think you might die.

Jesus, it’d finally happened. You’d found your soulmate.

Negan looks amazed. His grip tightening around your much smaller hand. Is it your imagination or does his touch tingle?

Giving Negan’s hand a squeeze in return, you reluctantly took a step back. “He’s right though, I should get back to my post. I’m there til’ night shift takes over.” You hinted.

You weren’t a weak bitch, hadn’t been in a long time actually, but something about this man in leather seemed to peel back your hardened exterior. It’s hard to concentrate on anything else besides Negan, and those godforsaken fingers as you climb the ladder and resume your post. The feeling of his hot tongue on your bare skin is on constant repeat, meanwhile, your eyes lazily scanned the perimeter for a threat.

The sun had just become a distant memory when the sound of crunching footsteps reached your ears.

“You fucking Simon?”

“Not even if you threatened to cut off my left tit, and she’s my favorite.” Your heart raced at the very sight of him. He’d shed his leather jacket, the summer night actually a comfortable temperature for once so that you had a good look at his forearms. Tattoos. Yummy. “Why do you ask?”

“Man’s got a major hard-on for you.” He motioned for you to climb down, and once you could make out the outline of another Savior in the distance, you readily agreed. “I’m talking major blue balls. It makes sense.” He elaborated further. “He’s kept you here all this time, and never mentioned you."

“You’re here now.” You hinted, wanting to get off the subject of Simon.

“You’re driving me up a motherfucking wall,” He admitted as you both walked along the fence, seemingly no direction in mind. “I don’t do relationships, but I want you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You waved off the incoming spiel. Feeling weren’t really your forte. “You’ve been scorned before, probably by some bitchy ex-wife named Lucille, and now you’re an unfeeling SOB who fucks and dips.” You blatantly assumed.

Pardon the crude language.

“Woman, I’m trying to communicate.” He stopped walking, an exasperated grimace on his face. Poor baby. “Isn’t that what chicks fucking want, some shithead to come riding in on a white horse with their dick out, spouting poetry?

“Maybe,” You relented, “but I’d rather have these feelings _expressed_ to me rather than spoken. My husband was a _shithead_ who lied to me for the entirety of our marriage, words don’t mean much.”

Sue you. So you were a senile old widow, and rightfully so.

Negan took the time to consider your words, an action you greatly appreciated since men who listen don’t really come along too often. Taking your hand in his, he led you in the direction of the parked cars across the clearing.

“For a second I forgot I was talking to the female version of myself.” He practically growled. “C’mon.”

* * *

“Oh, shit! Oh, god! Fuck,” You cried out.

Negan released your nipple with a sucking pop, his hands trailing the expanse of your spine. “How’s this for communication?” He teased.

Smug bastard.

“Now you’re speaking my language.” You panted. “Jesus, fuck! Negan, harder!”

The heavy sound of your fucking reverberated throughout the cab of the truck that Negan had promptly shoved your ass into. Of course, you’d gone willingly. There’d been a flurry of movements. Clothes had been shed. You’d been pleasantly surprised by the girth of his cock—yes, you were officially falling in love. The man was hung like a horse.

Rolling your hips, you took him deeper into your pussy, grasping the roof to gain purchase as he pushed his hips upwards. The result is a shocking bolt of electricity, a burning heat that courses up the length of your spine. Pardon the corny metaphor, but your bodies fit together like two puzzle pieces. You’d never been so full, felt so fulfilled and complete. You were made for each other, and all that romantic, cheesy bullshit.

“That’s it, Kitten.” Negan encouraged, his hand falling heavily upon the fleshy curve of your ass. “C’mon, fuck me. You ain’t gon’a break me. Tell me how much you love fucking yourself on my big cock.” He slapped your ass again. “Your pussy is so tight. I think it might snap my dick in half.”

Jesus, did the man love to talk dirty.

“Oh, fuck.” Your head lolled, swiveling your hips so that he repeatedly managed to hit your sweet spot. A shudder, deeper then you’d ever felt, tightened the knot in your tummy and snapped it all at once. You’re crying out your release, for the second time that night, as you convulse on his cock. “I love fucking your big cock, Daddy.” You sighed, slumping forward to catch your breath.

Ever the pleaser.

“Do you have any idea what damage that mouth could do?” You found that your back was pressed against the plush cushion of the bench seat in a quick maneuver. He’d move so that your legs were thrown over his shoulders, kneeling and hunching over your prone frame to guide his cock back into your slick channel. “Do you, Kitten?”

“I’ve been known to clear theaters.” You panted.

The windows had fogged, the heat from your lovemaking becoming condensation. It too, settled onto your skin so that you slipped and moved with every movement of his hips along the cushioned seat.

You’d come to learn several things about your soulmate in the last handful of minutes.

One. His mouth rivaled yours, if you ever had kids, you’re pretty sure their first word would be fuck.

“Give me one more, Kitten. Squeeze my fucking cock.” Negan’s demand is followed by the feeling of slick fingers brushing your distended clit. Your walls predictably constricted, and he grunted in approval. “There. It. Is.”

Two. He had a foot fetish. Not so predictable, but it did fall under the category of kinky.

Negan turned his head, never once breaking his rhythm and took your big toe into his mouth. The wetness of his tongue traveled in between the digits, softly nibbling. He came that way, his cock pulsing as his release dripped from between your legs.

Three. He liked to cuddle.

All in all, he was what your heart had never known it needed.

He collapsed forward, his weight a welcomed sensation, nuzzling your breasts with a content sigh.

“Wan’a hear something crazy? I might have to do a nut check to make sure the boys are still there, but,” He paused, taking a deep breath. He spoke quietly, the heat of his words brushing across your chest.“I think I love you.”

“Wan’a hear something crazier?” Your hands toyed with his hair, totally blissed out from the three orgasms that had been ripped from your quivering form, and you think— _what the hell, why not?_ “I love you too.”


End file.
